OMNES.
Accept our offering and be pleased, great goddess.
TERENTIUS.
See, see, the image stirs!
SATRIUS.
And turns away!
NATTA.
Fortune averts her face.
FLAMEN.
Avert, you gods,
The prodigy. Still! still, some pious rite
We have neglected. Yet, heaven be appeased,
And be all tokens false and void, that speak
Thy present wrath!
SEJANUS.
Be thou dumb, scrupulous priest:
And gather up thyself, with these thy wares
Which I, in spite of thy blind mistress, or
Thy juggling mystery, religion, throw
Thus scorned on the earth.
[Overturns the statue and the altar.]
Nay, hold thy look
Averted till I woo thee turn again
And thou shalt stand to all posterity,
The eternal game and laughter, with thy neck
Writh’d to thy tail, like a ridiculous cat.
Avoid these fumes, these superstitious lights,
And all these cozening ceremonies: you,
Your pure and spiced conscience!
[Exeunt all but Sejanus, Terentius, Satrius and Natta.]
I, the slave
And mock of fools, scorn on my worthy head!
That have been titled and adored a god,
Yea, sacrificed unto, myself, in Rome,
No less than Jove: and I be brought to do
A peevish giglot, rites! perhaps the thought
And shame of that, made fortune turn her face,
Knowing herself the lesser deity,
And but my servant.-Bashful queen, if so,
Sejanus thanks thy modesty.—Who’s that?